


muster

by CosmicTurnabout



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26285665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicTurnabout/pseuds/CosmicTurnabout
Summary: Chessamile oversees up-and-coming apothecary Riqi-Tio, and learns something in turn.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7
Collections: Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Bookclub FFXIV-Writes 2020 Collection





	muster

**Author's Note:**

> For the FFXIV writing challenge prompt #3: “muster.”

Riqi-Tio wore a determined expression as she wound the gauze around Arkil's arm, tongue stuck firmly between her teeth. Her movements were slow and precise under Chessamile’s watchful gaze. Night had fallen not long hence, but the bulbs overhead provided a buttery golden light for the apothecaries and patients of Spagyrics. The air was close and warm. Familiar. It was a fine atmosphere for quiet, deliberate work. Chessamile kept her mouth closed while the child applied a poultice and reached for more gauze, her frown curving ever upward as she went about her task. Any suggestion or advice at this point would break her focus.  
  
“Like this, Miss?” Riqi asked when she finished tying the bandage off a few moments later. She gave Arkil a fond pat on the shoulder, her face alight with good-natured mischief.  
  
Chessamile‘s smile widened. She made a point of carefully examining Arkil’s arm, coming in close, tapping here and there as if searching for weaknesses in the bandaging. Arkil giggled at the attention, squirming on the bed, and Riqi laughed along with him, kicking her feet in front of her in quick excited arcs.   
  
"Exactly like that. You seem to have things very well in order with this patient, Mistress Riqi-Tio. Expertly done.” Chessamile abruptly took on a no-nonsense tone. “But if Arkil here had been more careful, he never would have gotten such a scrape in the first place.”  
  
Arkil huffed with all the scorn a lad of twelve summers could muster. "One day Eirwel and I will be great adventurers, just like the Warriors of Light. And the Warrior of Darkness too, I reckon. Warriors are expected to take wounds in battle. This is nothing.”  
  
Riqi rolled her eyes and shoved Arkil playfully. “Ohhh, it wasn’t a battle, you great oaf! You tumbled from a tree out near the Accensor Gate, climbing too high while searching for sweetfruits!”  
  
Arkil at least had the grace to blush. “Warriors can take wounds outside of battle as well.”  
  
The younglings fell into a chatter then, joking about Arkil’s heroic fall, and Chessamile took the time to make quick inventory of her potions and tinctures. There was much less immediate need of them now that the sin eater threat had been all but quelled, but some stray eaters did still find their way into small hamlets and villages about Norvrandt. Only a few months back, eater attacks had been a constant fear, like a perpetual thundercloud hovering over the city. Now peace reigned, or something close enough to it. Peace from eaters, anyway. There was a sobering thought.  
  
Chessamile had just finished noting the stock of ether when boots thudded to the ground behind her. “Oh! They’re posting the new muster rolls!” she heard Arkil exclaim, and she turned to see him rocket from Spagyrics. He made a beeline for a pole just outside the facility’s awning, where a Ronso in heavy armor was pinning a long sheet of parchment. Chessamile could just make out the wax seal of the Crystarium guard in the upper left corner of the roll, blue and imposing. Officers often posted muster rolls in public places to apprise citizens of the state of the city’s defenses, and prospective recruits could check and see where they might best be able to help.  
  
Chessamile watched him go, his gait so very excited, and Riqi grasped her hand of a sudden. It took her a moment to realize tears were pricking her eyes. So many children wanted to be great warriors these days, after the Warrior of Darkness had revealed the truth of the Warriors of Light and their accomplishments. But soldiers deep in the long sleep knew how foolhardy a dream that could be. The wild bravery of the young often chafed against the well-worn wisdom of the old. Chessamile could feel her face crumpling even as Riqi’s grip tightened. She gnawed at her lip to keep the tears at bay. Her own father had gone back to the ground a decade ago, dead from a wound taken in a bandit raid. He had been brought to Spagyrics for treatment, but the wound had festered, burrowing hot and red in his thigh. He had died like that, corrupted from the inside out by infection. Boys thought battle and war a chance for glory. Chessamile had seen the spoils, and no matter what, it all looked like a field of dead bodies to her. There was no such thing as glory in battle.  
  
Try telling that to a hot-blooded boy with too many stories in his head, though. Much as she might attempt to discourage them, many of the children she knew—boys and girls alike—would one day join the Crystarium guard. But what of Riqi? The Mystel child looked up at her, all rosy and apple-cheeked. Chessamile hoped she would become an apothecary just as she’d proclaimed the day she had arrived on Alphinaud’s heels, panting for productive work. If she did, she could spend the rest of her youth in the relative safety of the Crystarium. And she could help others. The world needed healers as well as warriors, and Riqi’s heart was as big as the facility’s best and warmest chirurgeons. She would be a great boon to the place.  
  
“Miss Chessamile, are you alright?” the girl finally asked, cocking her head. “You look sad.”  
  
“I-I’m fine.” Chessamile wiped hastily at her eyes. "I was just thinking. I hate to see people hurt.”  
  
“I do, too, Miss Chessamile, ever so much. I can’t even stand to see a bird with a broken wing. I want to save everyone who hurts. Just like that traveling apothecary saved me.”  
  
“You have a great gift for healing, sweetie."  
  
Riqi beamed up, ears wiggling with delight. "Really, really? You think so?"  
  
“I really, really do.” Chessamille smiled and squeezed her hand. "You keep at it, do you hear me? Learn from the tomes Master Moren lends you, and heed well your lessons here every week. You’ll probably know more than me in a year.”  
  
Riqi flushed. “I doubt that. But I’ll try. I won’t give up!”  
  
“Wonderful, sweetie. Because the world will need your gift; it always has need of those who can muster their strength to aid their fellow man. And Arkil will need you most of all. Will you protect him?”  
  
Riqi looked down. “He’ll need me? Yes... yes, he will. Won’t he? He wishes to be a great warrior. I guess that just means I’ll need to be here to help him and Eirwel when I become an apothecary. And to do that, I’ll need to learn everything there is to know about healing, absolutely _everything_.”  
  
“Very good. That makes me happy to hear.”  
  
Chessamile did not mean to put such a weight on the child’s shoulders, but she did want to impress upon her the importance of healers, of those who offered succor for pains. It was a great shame that they never erected statues to healers.  
  
After a moment of silence, Riqi glanced after Arkil and said, “Arkil checks the muster lists every week to see where the vacancies are, but he won’t be able to join the guard for another six summers at least.” She sighed. “I know he wants to help, but... the sooner he joins the guard, the sooner he’ll get hurt. Why are boys so eager to fight?”  
  
“If I knew the answer to that, I would be accounted a great sage,” said Chessamile, mussing the child’s hair. “As I said, that’s why you’ll need to be a hero with your potions and tinctures, ready to heal. Ready to soothe, as you did me just now.”  
  
Riqi thought about that for a long moment, and then nodded. “You’re right. But can I really be a hero if I don’t have a weapon? All the storybook heroes have weapons, with fancy names and everything.”  
  
“Not all heroes wield weapons,” said Chessamile. Riqi’s satchel was sitting on the bed, and she picked it up and passed it to the girl. Rectangular shapes bulged against its sides, vials upon vials of homemade potions. Grass-based, no doubt. “Some heroes are as strong walls, offering shade and sanctuary to the weak. Keeping out the enemy. Weathering storms. Protecting. It is a noble duty.”  
  
Riqi clutched the satchel to her chest, glass clinking in her embrace. She seemed to take strongly to the words. “Then I shall become a wall so sturdy and tall no enemy can scale it.” She flashed a cheeky smile and waved, slipping the satchel over her shoulder and spinning to take off after Arkil. Chessamile waved back, shaking her head in wonder at the boundless energy of younglings.  
  
Arkil saw her approaching and extended his arms to catch her lest she barrel into him. “Whoa, whoa! Easy, Riqi. What do you have in there anyway?”  
  
“They’re potions. They'll close your wounds up fast. They'll make you feel better too." Riqi shook her head. “Why do you always want to read these lists every week? It’ll be years before you can join the guard, Arkil!”  
  
Arkil’s face screwed up into something between humor and exasperation. “Oh, you know... just seeing which company suits me best for when I can finally try out, that’s all.”  
  
“Well, if that’s the case, you’d better get used to the taste of my potions. Here, try one.” Riqi plucked a vial from her satchel and handed it to the boy. Arkil stared at the vial for a moment, turning it over in his hands.  
  
“Riqi, these always taste terrible.”  
  
“Maybe I’ve gotten better at mixing the ingredients. Give it a try.”  
  
They bantered back and forth a bit, Riqi crossing her arms and tapping her foot, Arkil offering a long-suffering grin and dancing to keep the vial from the Mystel girl’s grasping hands. Chessamile went back to inventory, but kept the children in her peripheral vision. Finally, after a pointed nudge from Riqi, Arkil gave in. He popped the vial open and tipped it over his mouth, swallowing the contents whole. When he came back up he made a face like a sick frog. Riqi looked distressed, but then Arkil smiled.  
  
“It’s... you’re right. It’s actually not that bad. Far from delicious, but you’ve got years to improve on it.”  
  
“And _you_ have years before the guard will ever take you in. So c’mon! Let’s just go play!”  
  
They both laughed heartily then, doubling over with hands on knees, Riqi’s satchel swinging from her shoulder. For a long happy moment, they looked and sounded as young as they really were.  
  
Each and every patient was a potential weight on Chessamile’s conscience. She could not forget that. A potential new gravestone to be put up outside the walls of the Crystarium, in the gardens where the many dead from sin eater raids now rested.  
  
But not always. Sometimes, instead of death, she saw life, bright and blooming in warm shade.  
  
 _May the gods protect these little ones_ , she thought. _May they always find shade and sanctuary_. She watched Riqi stride off with Arkil, hand in hand, the Mystel child’s shadow stretching longer and taller than her friend’s in the starlight.  
  
Tears welled in Chessamile’s eyes once more. This time, she let them flow. She did what she could to protect them, but the future belonged to these younglings in the end. They would be alright. They would. Riqi would make sure.


End file.
